'I… I do not know.
'Then give me back the gold and I will find someone else who is willing.
Adam touched his pouch and frowned and twitched. But he could not bring his hand to reach inside and throw the money back. 'It is wrong, he said.
'Why? Louis shrugged. 'The infant doesn't need its fat if it is dead.
'Where are you going to find a midwife willing to risk herself too?
'God in heaven, man, have you seen it out there? Louis threw his arm wide. 'Prince Henry's army, Gloucester's army, all their allies. Where there are fighting men there are whores, and where there are whores there are midwives. I'll find one. He held out his hand. 'Now, my gold returned, or your final agreement.
The apothecary gnawed his lower lip and finally clasped Louis's hand for the briefest of moments. 'Agreed, he said stiffly. 'Bring me the ingredient when you have it. Looking sick, he rose to his feet, surreptitiously wiping his palm on his thigh.
When he had gone, Ewan came and sat at the trestle to finish the jug of wine with his master. Louis had told him nothing about his ailment and Ewan had never sought to probe, on the principle that thinking beyond orders caused nothing but worry and moral dilemmas.
'Where do we go after this? he asked. 'Are you still planning to hire out with Prince Henry?
Louis raised the cup to his lips, drank and swallowed. 'Tomorrow, he said. 'I'll not get further than a hurling in the dust if I go to recruit smelling of wine. The first impression is the one that lingers. Go, do what you want with the rest of the day.
Ewan grinned wolfishly. 'If it's all the same, I'll stay here.
'As you please. Louis tossed a silver penny on the table and, leaving The Mermaid, went out to wander Bristol's bustling heart, a place in which he had not set foot since he was a young garrison soldier of one-and-twenty, bringing his bride to buy fripperies and small items for their home.
Jesu, it was so long ago. A lifetime. A lifetime of wandering and squandering. What would it have been like if he could only have set his will to the grindstone at Wickham? Would it have rewarded him with satisfaction and even greater honours, or would he have grown to hate it? The latter, he thought. Wealth and status he enjoyed, but not the responsibilities which came with them. He had spent most of his life cultivating the former and shedding the latter.
He made his way to the wharves to watch the vessels loading and unloading their cargoes — wines from Gascony and Burgundy, bundles of Irish flax and five Irish mares — and trading barges from upriver with cargoes of iron from the forges in the forest. He inhaled the sharp, salt air and savoured the textures of life, an overwhelming anger growing within him.
He was a part of the great flow and he had no intention of being stranded above the tideline and left to rot by the disease consuming him.
'Do you think ill of me? Geoffrey FitzMar looked sidelong at Catrin.
'Why should I? They were sitting on a bench facing the herb garden that lay at the side of the dwelling. Philip of Gloucester had given Geoffrey the house to live in and an income of rents from three others in recognition of his services.
It was pleasant and sunny, sheltered from the wind. Eight children ranging in age from twelve to three years old, her own among them, romped in the orchard at the foot of the garth. With them was a young woman, neatly dressed, plain of feature, but with a lovely smile brightening her face as she threw a ball for one of the girls to catch. Her laugh rang out, clear and happy.
'It is not so long since Edon died. Perhaps you think that I do not respect her memory by marrying again so soon.
Catrin watched her small sons twinkle in and out of the trees. 'It is three years, she murmured. 'What you do is your own business. And no, I think that you honour her memory by doing as you have.
'Truly? He looked at her anxiously.
'Truly. She gave his hand a squeeze and smiled. Most men would not care what others thought. Most men had hides so tough that it took a spear to pierce them, but not Geoffrey. It was probably the reason why he and Oliver were friends. There were times when each irritated the other beyond bearing, but there were bonds of similarity too. 'Look at all the years that Oliver wasted in recrimination and mourning. Better to grieve and then to move on.
He nodded. 'I try, but I still do grieve for Edon, you know, even though I have Miriel — and it hurts.
'I miss her too, Catrin murmured. 'She was always part of my return to Bristol, and now she's not here.
'It was my fault that she died, Geoffrey said bleakly.
'It was the will of God.
His smile was grim. 'I tried telling myself that, but it led me down the path to heresy. I asked a priest why it was God's will, and he said that it was ours not to reason why. So are we not to think for ourselves but to follow in blind faith? He shook his head. 'It's easier to blame myself for lust than God for failing.
'Geoffrey… She touched his arm, unsure what to say. 'I can live with it, he said. 'When it becomes too dark for me to bear alone, Miriel is there, and I have my children.
Catrin bit her lip. 'And supposing Miriel quickens with child. How long have you been wed?
'A six-month, he replied. 'She looks young, does she not, but she's eight-and-twenty. Since the age of fifteen she has been widowed once and cast aside once.
'Cast aside? Catrin regarded Geoffrey's new wife with a spark of sympathy having herself been abandoned twice by the same man. 'Whatever for?
'Being barren, Geoffrey said expressionlessly. 'Her first, widowed, marriage lasted five years without children and her second match bore no fruit either. Barren soil rather than barren seed. Whatever I sow cannot grow and destroy the place where it was planted.
Catrin felt both sorry for him and relieved. 'I wish you both well, she murmured. 'With all my heart I do.
The sunset was a striking silver-streaked pink, overlaid by streamers of charcoal and rust. Oliver paused in his examination of a pack horse to watch it and thought about stopping to eat. Henry was preparing to ride on to Gloucester to hold his Easter court. There was so much to do and so little time to accomplish it all.
'Fine evening, greeted Humfrey de Glanville, pausing on his way across the bailey. He was one of Henry's recruiting masters, and Oliver knew and liked him well. They had frequently worked together, their respective positions in Henry's household making them allies and fellow sufferers.
Oliver nodded agreement and for a moment the two men watched the sunset flame and darken over the estuary. Oliver told his companion that he was inspecting the pack ponies before he sent them off to an outlying manor to collect supplies.
'It's like feeding a bottomless pit, he said with a grimace. The weather creases at Humfrey's eye corners deepened. 'Aye, I know what you mean.
'Hire any new men worth their salt today? Oliver asked.
Having recruited in the past, he knew how difficult the task was. The dross came anyway, lured by the promise of plunder and pay. Finding steady soldiers of good calibre, who would not break at the first testing, was somewhat more difficult.
Humfrey shrugged and rubbed his grey-salted beard. 'Most were of the usual sort. Welsh youngsters in search of adventure and scarce old enough to grow a beard between them. Men with mouths to feed and no other way of doing it. Others who think that Prince Henry's footsteps are printed in gold.
Oliver grunted in sympathy.
'There were a couple who intrigued me though. Humfrey scratched his nose. 'Adventurers I'd say, after plunder and prestige, but they'd got a sharper edge than the others. A knight and his servant.
'Oh?
'Claimed to be returned crusaders and it's likely true. The knight had a red cross sewn on his cloak and they were both as brown as nuts.
Oliver raised his brows with interest. 'Did they say for whom they fought before their crusade?